Edith's Christmas Carol
by DracoWombat
Summary: Two months earlier, Mary Crawley had died. Now Edith took in her son at Belgrave Square. However, a life of suffering has made the woman bitter. Can anything make her go back to the sweet woman she was before it is too late?
1. Prologue

**So, in this AU, Mary never had any other children and Edith never met Bertie. The year is 1945, and Mary has recently passed away. Since she was the last person living in Downton with her so** **n, the place is abandoned now.**

* * *

Lady Edith Crawley entered her room. She lived mostly alone these days, with no other company than that of her butler, a housemaid, and a cook. Even ladies dressed themselves these days (As she had suspected from the start of the new ordeal, two wars were too much for the ancient customs of the British aristocracy to bear), so she had no need for a Lady's Maid. Surely, Sybil Branson, George and Marigold Crawley also lived in 35 Belgrave Square, a house which used to belong to her aunt Lady Rosamund, but they were new additions, and hardly ever interacted with the bitter redhead.

That day fitted into the "hardly ever". George Crawley, a short and slim-framed 25-year-old man, entered the room covered in snow. He had the light-footedness attributed to his mother Mary, who died a few months a

* * *

go, bless her soul, but reminded Edith much of Matthew Crawley, the previous heir of Downton, with his light blonde hair and blue eyes, although otherwise his features resembled her late sister's.

"Good day, George" Edith said, in a deadpan tone. She had barely sat in her bed at the time George arrived. He hardly made any noise walking, an attribute befitting of a lady, but not of an adult man like himself.

"Good day, Aunt Edith" The man announced

"I hope you invaded my room unannounced and uninvited for better reason than simply wishing me a good day"

"I have in fact" He started fidgeting, something he did when nervous. George had wanted to fight in the war, although he didn't due to Mary pulling strings and connections. Edith was glad her sister did so; George would've been claimed by shell shock or something even more terrifying, if simply talking to his now legal guardian made him fidget that much. "I wanted to visit Mama's grave"

"And what is the reason to such demonstration of grief?"

"Well, it's the first Christmas I spend without her, Aunt Edith"

"And what is so special about Christmas that makes you need to visit your mother's grave when you showed no desire of wanting such a thing yesterday?" Edith reprehended him, but continued "There's some money in my desk. Take it a pick up a train to Downton village. And please, on your way out, inform Marigold and Sybbie that I have a terrible headache and that I will get some sleep to see if it does any good"

"Thank you, Aunt Edith!"

She didn't answer.

* * *

Edith woke up late. It was nighttime already, and she had been awoken by the sound of a knock in her door. Marigold and Sybbie entered the room as soon as she instructed them to come in.

"Mother, Lady Rose asked us to inform you that she's throwing a party at Downton Abbey. A Christmas Eve party. You might want to come" Marigold pronounced.

"Do not announce your position as my daughter so loudly. Ever. It was a mistake to ever tell you" Edith spoke, harshly "And no, I do not want to come to silly Christmas parties thrown by silly marquess' daughters. Tell Lady Rose to go and..." The older woman stopped herself mid-sentence; she may have been bitter but she had enough care for etiquette not to insult a relative in such a ghastly manner.

"Can I come though?" Marigold asked hesitantly.

"No, Marigold. You are my daughter, and I shall make sure to telephone Lady Rose and tell her to stop inciting my own daughter into abandoning me" She said with a disapproving face.

Marigold and the silent Sybbie left the room.

Later at night, Edith heard a noise. A noise that couldn't have been made by the two girls. A noise of chains...


	2. The Crawley Ghost

Edith came downstairs, expecting to see what was the source of the noise, making sure she didn't make any herself, for it could be a robbery. She prepared herself for the worst; but what she saw was as far as possible from what she had imagined.

She saw Lady Mary Crawley.

Or what would've been Lady Mary Crawley, had she been a prisoner and not a Lady nor a Crawley. Her previously elaborate clothing was in rags, barely enough to cover her hardly noticeable chest. Her hands were cuffed to each other, and so were her feet, also connected by chains to a heavy-looking sphere. It looked like a cross between something from a childhood book and a Lovecraftian novel.

She blinked. Her headache was horrible and it could've been fooling her senses. But no. There she was. A ghost of her sister Mary. Edith immediately felt herself gulping. Surely she'd be mad that the redhead had been so rude to her son. But no, all she saw was a caring, and somewhat worried look in her eyes.

Such loving stare was far more unbelievable than the presence of a ghost. But Edith knew this was real. How? Don't ask her, she had a nagging feeling in her head no amount of pinching herself would make the vision go away.

"Edith, I've come to warn you..."

"If it's about the way I've treated George..."

"Would you once in your life quit your whining and just listen!" Mary reprimanded. Always the same bitch, Edith thought. She'd never change, not even in the afterlife.

Mary sighed, and continued.

"I've lived life focusing on the negatives; I became bitter and manipulative; whining about what I couldn't change. I urge you not to make the same mistakes I did; change your ways while there's still time. Or else, my fate will be yours to bear as well"

"Oh what an irony. Lady Mary's finally acknowledging she's not perfect! How pleasing a surprise"

"If you choose not to listen to my advice, it won't be my fault. But listen well. Once the clock strikes midnight, you will be visited by three ghosts, that are a part of our past. They will teach you the lesson you so adamantly refuse to learn from me"

And with that declaration, Mary faded. Her image blurred in Edith's eyes and eventually disappeared. The younger woman brushed off the encounter and went to bed, in attempt to get the throbbing headache out of her mind.


	3. Weak and Foolish

Edith woke up after barely any sleep, due to the lighting in her room. Before fully opening her eyes, she thought about how strange it was that such bright light was peering through the curtains... It wasn't.

Edith opened her eyes and saw herself facing Patrick Crawley.

His face was nowhere as scarred as the last time she'd seen him, during the the first war.

Edith's heart fluttered, and she blushed. Patrick was back to his handsome self, but she was old, her red hair greying, wrinkles at the most unlikely of places. She was ashamed.

"P-Patrick?" She stuttered a bit, and this was all that was able to come out of her mouth. Gulping, she recomposed her thoughts "So I suppose Mary was right"

"Yes, she was, my dear Edith. And now, I have something to show you" He said cheerfully

I went up and held his hand, slowly as to not burn myself in the bright light that emanated from him. However, the hand was only a bit warm and she could hold on to it with no issues.

And then they flew right out of the window Edith hadn't known was opened. She was afraid of opening her eyes. But when she did, she saw the silhouette of the city of London right before her. She could even see the Tower of London! It was amazing, although also scary in a sense.

Edith and Patrick arrived at a house. Not just any house. At Downton. Edith had taken longer than usual to recognize it.

"Shall we go inside, milady?"

"Lead the way" She couldn't help but smile

And they entered the house. Just as she remembered the scenery: the first Christmas after which Sybil was born. Edith was a very young child, and she had thankfully forgotten that day. However, it now played like a movie in her head, except with good sound and many colors.

A young baby played with her new toys, the new addition to the family having too many to be counted. Mary was walking down the staircase with her new gorgeous purple dress. She wasn't much older than Edith, but already had a figure older women envied.

Edith was sitting in a chair near grandmama, listening to her ramble about how she just couldn't tolerate Impressionism and "that avant-garde nonsense" and experimenting with her new hat, which was way too big for her head and not at all complimenting. She couldn't remember now, but it was given to her by Aunt Rosamund. No one had given any gifts to her that night. She had been awkward as hell, and wanting to cry.

Her younger self left the room unannounced. She knew it was impolite, but little Edith couldn't take much more. She walked over to her room, only to be stopped by Elsie, a new beginner maid, who was seeing something on the corridor right besides it.

"Oh dear, what is it? Why are you going to your room? Sleepy already? Do you want me to call Nanny?"

"No..." She said, stifling the unladylike sniff she almost gave due to her crying "It's just, do you think it's fair that Sybil gets the most gifts, and Mary gets the best ones? All I got was an oversized hat, and it was from Aunt Rosamund!"

"You know what I think, dear?" She said calmly "Is it ever fair that anyone gets any less gifts than Sybil? Is it fair that some people don't get gifts at all? If we keep focusing so much on complaining about things that are not fair, we won't ever get our fair share. Work harder, be nicer, follow the rules. Maybe this way you'll get to be the favorite. And if the issue's the hat, let me see what I can do with a needle".

Edith, now hand in hand with Patrick, still had that hat. She'd forgotten about all of that, but she kept it. Maybe it was time for her to write to Mrs. Hughes

"What do you see?" Patrick questioned

"I see a girl, wanting to be looked at. To be noticed. Wanting to feel loved. I see a weak, foolish girl who thinks people can get things just as long as they worked hard. I see a woman who spent her life trying her best and only ever getting the scraps left by Mary!" She said, kicking the floor ever so slightly "Did you bring me here to enrage me?!"

"I see a girl who is strong. Or do you think Mary or Sybil would've stood a lifetime of being in the sidelines like you did? They have their own strengths, sure. But you have yours. They haven't endured nearly as much hardship as you did, and I can't bring myself to believe any of them would've gotten through it" Patrick recited solemnly "Don't go just yet. There's still more I want you to see"


	4. In the Snow

Patrick grabbed Edith's hand and once again they jumped through time and space. Now instead of within Downton, they were at its nearby grounds, in a snowy night Edith recognized very well. It wasn't Christmas, not exactly, but winter was starting to show, and snow already gathered on trees. Not enough to make them uncomfortable, but enough for the younger Edith to desire a coat, instead of the thin, flowy, albeit old fashioned, garb she had been wearing at the time. It was December 1911, the last time Edith had seen Patrick during the latter's life. That she knew of with certainty. She hadn't dared to ask, but did have a nagging feeling the disfigured man she encountered was indeed Patrick.

* * *

"Edith, you know we can't, and you know why!" The younger Patrick had said

"Doesn't make it fair" her more jovial self muttered "Your father, my father, Mary, it's all so unfair"

"Life's unfair, my precious Edith" He came down to kiss her hand "Had it not been, you'd be the one getting all the attention. You deserve it most"

"Quit flattering me! You don't fool me for a second!"

"You know I have to marry your sister; it's how it must go"

"Says who?!"

"Both of our sets of parents" He sighed "Listen, I want this as much as you do. But we can't marry, and it's time we accept it. We were never meant to be!"

"Well, we can still be together. People do it all the time, just refuse to admit it. Especially in the aristocracy"

"I know better than to tarnish your reputation and your soul with such horrible acts; painting you as a homewrecker in the eyes of God would not be wise"

"You've never been the religious sort before now..." She pronounced cynically

"Edith, it would be immoral of me to hold you in an adulterous relationship with me and restrain you from finding a more fulfilling and suitable relationship" He said, teary-eyed.

"You know what I think?! I think you're making excuses! She's wrapped you under her spell too, you're just a bit more subtle about it!" The younger redhead declared

"Edith, trust me, this is for the best. You'll thank me one day." He said solemnly, holding back his own tears, walking away from Edith, the redhead lying in the snowy ground, crying.

* * *

The current Edith shivered, and Patrick held her closely

"Admittedly, this is my fault. But you have to admit you've come quite a long way from that. You're strong, Edith. On your own way, like I've said. And now it's time for us to part. There are others who wish to talk to you"


End file.
